RSL Ch 65

We slowly spent time and arrived at the Soho House building at 9 o’clock, as Marcus had said. The thick iron door was open at a 30-degree angle, and through the light leaking from inside, we could make out the sign that said “Eslan.” It was an empty building, full of unused desks and fixtures.

Contrary to my expectation that there would be no audience, there seemed to be about twenty people settling in, murmuring. For a local art event like this, gathering this many people could be considered half a success. Moreover, they had even recruited two foreigners on such a rainy day – quite a decent achievement, wouldn’t you say?

We lingered in the back row, trying not to stand out, and finally settled on top of an indoor heater attached to the wall. It was the classic “Cool Kids” spot—the kind of seat that Han Jae-yi and I always insisted on during our school days. Our theory was that in buses going to group classical concerts or field trips, the popular kids should sit as far back as possible.

The screening began just as we could feel the warmth of the heater on our bottoms. And it was very boring.

The video consistently showed scenes of a train running. Moreover, it was in black and white and silent. At first, I thought it might be paying homage to something like “The Great Train Robbery,” but I soon fell asleep due to the lack of effort that didn’t even include robbers.

While I was nodding off with my head casually resting on Han Jae-yi’s shoulder, the movie ended and the director’s commentary followed.

“Seo-jin.”

Han Jae-yi’s low call pierced through the director’s voice that filled the space and echoed in my ear. I kept my eyes closed and just responded with a “Mm-hmm.”

“I think the rain has stopped. Let’s go out.”

I was hesitating, reluctant to leave the warmth that had seeped into my bottom. Noticing this, Han Jae-yi hugged my shoulders, sharing his warmth, and encouraged me to get up. Fortunately, the iron door was still open at a 30-degree angle, and we slipped out, leaving behind these artistically sensitive Europeans.

“That was really boring.”

Han Jae-yi just smiled at my complaint that burst out as soon as we left. I walked towards home, leaning slightly against him.

“I thought it might be something like ‘The Great Train Robbery,’ but it wasn’t even that.”

“That’s right. It was a documentary about the process of making that work at the time.”

“What? It didn’t seem like it?”

He hugged my waist tightly and laughed again. Then he started teasing me about what I had actually seen.

According to Han Jae-yi, I had fallen asleep as soon as the screening started. He said he had to stifle his laughter several times because it was so funny watching me occasionally lift my head, pretending not to be dozing off. He also apologized, saying he had intended to take me out as soon as the rain stopped, but the content of the film turned out to be quite interesting, so he ended up watching it till the end.

“You must have been very tired. How’s your cold?”

Han Jae-yi provided an excuse for me, who was feeling embarrassed.

“I’m fine.”

We retraced our steps from memory. With both hands in our pockets, we pondered our plans for tomorrow. If it doesn’t continue to rain, it would be nice to go for a picnic. A bicycle appeared behind us with a ringing sound and passed us by.

Han Jae-yi stopped walking to make way, took out a cigarette from inside his jacket and lit it. At the same time, his left hand that was wrapped around my waist entered the pocket of my trench coat. We walked towards home holding hands like that.

The next day, we rode the bicycles that Marcus had prepared for us and headed toward the square opposite the Van Gogh Gallery. The weather had cleared up as if the rain from the night before had been a lie. The bright sunlight illuminated every corner of Amsterdam under the clear sky.

We rode through the streets, now dry in the crisp air. At the open-air market, we bought cheese, bread, apples, and soda.

The grass in the square was still damp with moisture, so Han Jae-yi’s plan to lie down and soak up the sun couldn’t be carried out. Instead, we chose a suitable bench and had our breakfast-lunch there.

Several food trucks selling snacks and drinks were parked in the grassy square surrounded by galleries. Two tourists, holding overly hard, preservative-laden hot dogs, pointed to our bench as they searched for a similar spot to sit.

The line at the Van Gogh Gallery showed no signs of shrinking since morning, and we, with our eyes hidden behind sunglasses, were enjoying one of our long-standing hobbies: people-watching.

“It looks like it’ll take almost two hours to get in,” Han Jae-yi said, leaning back lazily with his arms stretched out over the bench.

“To appreciate masterpieces, you should be willing to invest that much time, don’t you think? Museums and galleries are crowded everywhere in Europe.”

He shrugged his shoulders in response, offering a rebuttal to my comment.

“Hmm, do you think the paintings by Van Gogh hanging in there are the real ones? No way. They’ve probably hung fakes in the gallery and hidden the originals somewhere else.”

“No way.”

Despite how confidently he spoke, I didn’t believe him. Sure, in the past, they might have displayed replicas out of fear of theft, keeping the originals in a basement vault or something, but would they really do that in the 21st century? It would be disheartening if it were true, especially for those so eager to stand in line and see the artwork. If it were me, I wouldn’t even want to know the truth.

“Don’t worry. Do you think those people are really in line because they love Van Gogh and want to see his paintings? It doesn’t matter to them. They’re just in line so they can say they saw ‘Sunflowers’ and ‘Self-Portrait’ today. Their real goal isn’t to appreciate the art; it’s the experience of having seen it. That’s what they’re paying for with their time and money.”

“Do you really need to interpret it so cynically?”

“What can I do? It’s the truth.”

“Fine. Then why don’t you go over there and tell the people who’ve been standing in line since morning that it’s all a scam?”

“Should I?”

Suddenly, Han Jae-yi stood up as if he was really going to carry out that act, turning towards the gallery. I hurriedly grabbed his arm and pulled him back down onto the bench. Knowing his personality, I had to stop him sincerely because I knew he was more than capable of doing it.

“Okay, enough. You’re right about everything.”

Han Jae-yi, who had been watching my startled face, buried his face in my shoulder and laughed out loud.

“Oh, this is killing me. Your expression is just too cute.”

Judging by his reaction, he must have been teasing me from the start. I wondered where the joke had begun. Was it from the moment he mentioned the fake paintings? I frowned at him as he continued to rub his face against my shoulder.

“Seriously, what’s the truth here?”

Without answering, he just kept laughing to himself. Then, with a playful expression that seemed unsure of what to do, he lifted his chin and said to me, “You’re getting cuter and cuter these days. What am I supposed to do now?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at how absurd it all was.

Han Jae-yi ruffled my hair, which I hadn’t styled with wax, and looked at me with a smile. All his actions as a lover were so natural that I didn’t want to stop him at all. Because of that, I was also ignoring the stares from the people who had been watching us since earlier.

Tourists eating hot dogs on the nearby bench, pedestrians crossing the grassy square, and even the guy selling food from the truck—they all turned their heads at Han Jae-yi’s laughter. They were all watching his affectionate gestures towards me.

Fortunately, none of their gazes seemed to contain any hatred or prejudice. Most of them ended up smiling before turning away.

Now, laughter was also beginning to spread from the adjacent bench. It seems that happiness is more contagious than I thought. Caught up in the joy of openly expressing our feelings for each other in public, we ended up staying on that bench longer than we had planned.

The next morning, as I was returning to the partner company’s lounge at Schiphol Airport after parting with Han Jae-yi, I received a call from Chris. I sensed something was up from his tone as he asked about my well-being and tried to brush it off as if nothing was wrong, but Chris wasn’t quick to spill the beans. Judging by how he kept adding “Oh, it’s nothing” at the end of his sentences, it seemed he wanted me to ask.

My brother’s recent life interests were only two: setting up his own accounting firm and having a child. He said it wasn’t the former, so it must be the latter. So I asked, and I felt even happier hearing his voice, unable to hide his joy with a subtle laugh. They had been waiting for a child for a long time.

“Congratulations! How many months?”

-Four months. It’s still a bit early, but you’re the only one who knows.

“I’ll keep it to myself. Give my congratulations to Sylvia too. No, I’ll send her a message myself.”

-Thanks. Did you have a good birthday?

“Yeah, I was spoiled thanks to someone.”

I smiled to myself, thinking of that “someone.” Chris would laugh if he knew that person had followed me all the way to the Netherlands to make his move. Come to think of it, how did Chris figure out that I liked Han Jae-yi?

Gisella had said it. She said the way I looked at Han Jae-yi seemed different. Could emotions be revealed just by looking at someone? It was surprising how much information human expressions could convey.

-That’s right, your expression was a bit different. Since you were young, you always smiled more when you were with that guy. I thought it was just because you were both from the same country and felt comfortable around each other, but it wasn’t the same when you were with other Koreans. So I was unsure, but when I saw you flustered after hearing about Jae-yi’s marriage, I figured there was no other reason. By the way, did that guy tell his parents the truth? There are strange rumors going around the neighborhood because his ex-fiancée is a celebrity.

“Um… His parents know. He said he had to tell them the truth because they seemed very disappointed that he went to Korea. But what kind of rumors are going around?

-Well, you know. People thought they broke up because of personality differences, but now they’re saying her fiancé cheated on her. They almost got married, but she found out in time. That kind of gossip. What can you do? Gisella is still pretty famous around here.

I imagined one of those gossip columns scribbled in a corner of the local newspaper that my adoptive father liked to read, alongside an ad for a two-bedroom house and an obituary for someone who passed away a few days ago.

I felt a pang of sympathy for my lover and his ex-fiancée, who were still the talk of the town in that neighborhood, home to the most conservative people in Germany. I also felt like I was cowardly staying out of this war.

“Chris, I’m thinking of stopping by the house in Winnenden on my next flight. I think I should tell our parents. Can you be there too if you have time? It’s on Saturday, the 25th.”

-Of course I can. Don’t worry, I’ll be there to support you.

“Thanks. I need to go now. Congratulations again on becoming a father. I’m really happy for you.”

-Thanks. Be careful on your flight. See you when you get here.

After ending the call with him, I quickened my pace to join the show-up. I must have been standing still in one place while focused on the conversation without realizing it.

In truth, it was hard to predict my adoptive parents’ reaction. What was certain was that they would probably be more surprised by the fact that my partner was Han Jae-yi rather than the fact that I was dating a man. I didn’t intend to report every detail of my personal love life, but I thought it would be better to tell them directly rather than having them hear strange rumors from others. It felt like I was finally doing homework I had been putting off.

During the flight briefing, my voice was hoarse, and I had to clear my throat several times, making some unpleasant sounds. The cold I’d caught along with my birthday was getting worse. Even when I entered the cockpit and prepared for takeoff, the co-pilot expressed concern after hearing me cough several times. I handed over the controls to him early and let him handle the takeoff.

Fortunately, after this flight, I don’t have any long-distance schedules for a while. With the holiday season ending, the number of days I’d have to be on home standby would noticeably decrease.

Leaving the hot summer behind, the fleeting autumn was approaching.